


You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet

by theloverneverleaves



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, First Meetings, Flirting, Journalist Alec, M/M, Treasure Hunting, it's really an uncharted au, lots of flirting, so give me a break?, which is sort of like indiana jones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 05:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12101244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theloverneverleaves/pseuds/theloverneverleaves
Summary: Alec is a serious journalist. He makes a serious television show that deals with serious topics. Ancient ruins, artefacts, and real concrete history. He does not chase after silly leads given to him by strange treasure hunters, even if said lead is the find of a lifetime.Of course, none of this explains why the hell he's in Panama waiting to meet one such treasure hunter.Alec is screwed.(aka the uncharted au one person wanted)





	You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SalazarTipton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalazarTipton/gifts).



> Written for my dearest [Edin](http://achilleanragnor.tumblr.com/), happy birthday!!!! I couldn't tell you about this and then not write about it, so here it is. At least, part one. I hope you enjoy it and have the best birthday ever. <333
> 
> For general audiences, this is an AU of the video game Uncharted, but you absolutely don't need to know anything about the games. It's not a complicated concept, and certainly not in this piece!
> 
> As always, you can find me at [isabellebiwoods](http://isabellebiwoods.tumblr.com/)!! xoxo

The bar was sticky with layers and layers of spilled blood and beer, wiped away but never really cleaned up. The wood of the bar and the tables was old and chipped, and felt like it had been used in a shootout one too many times. The jukebox in the corner was from another time altogether, but still hummed away happily, whistling out some Spanish tune that Alec didn't know.

It was quiet, this early in the morning. Since the bar was attached to an inn, he wasn't sure it ever really closed. The only other patrons apart from Alec were a pair of muscled, tattooed guys who looked like they'd almost certainly just escaped from a jail around the corner and nipped in for a quick pint of whatever the beer on tap was. At eight am.

Honestly, he'd seen more surprising things so he wasn't about to question.

He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing here at all, to be honest. Visiting a bar at eight in the morning wasn't usually his style. In fact, Alec was nearly ninety per cent sure he'd slipped, hit his head and somehow ended up completely delusional. Insanity was the only explanation for why he'd agreed to come to this place. He was a serious historical journalist with a serious craft. He unveiled and documented secrets that had been lost for hundreds of years, and aired them to the public. He'd filmed Mayan cities and English ruins, Middle Eastern tombs and Chinese artefacts. He knew what he was doing and he didn't need to go chasing mythical sunken coffins. 

And yet… if the guy that had called was serious, if he could actually uncover the lost, sunken coffin of Sir Francis Drake… It would be the find of a lifetime, the kind of exclusivity his show hadn't enjoyed for… well, ever. It would finally put his show on the map, give him the funding to go further more often, discover more and document every inch of it. 

Of course, that was only if this guy was serious. If Alec wasn't the idiot that believed  _ every _ guy who cold called him about lost treasure and ancient myths. He'd fought hard for where he was, and he couldn't help but feel this was a risk he didn't  _ need _ to take. And yet here he was. Chasing the dream in the middle of Panama. At least his Spanish was good. 

Alec paused, glancing around the bar, eyes sticking on the two tattooed patrons. Whoever this Magnus Bane guy was, Alec sincerely hoped it wasn't one of  _ those  _ guys. For a start, they looked like they could break him in half, and not in a good way. Second, Alec wasn't sure they'd even know who Sir Francis Drake  _ was _ , never mind anything else. 

Just as Alec begun to suspect he'd been stood up and started formulating how to explain the wasted expense to the cable company, there was a loud clatter from the back of the bar. Alec turned, pausing as he listened to the heavy thud of footsteps on stairs. It sounded like the stairs were made out of paper, and frankly he wouldn't be surprised if they were. 

Then, the little door beside the bar swung open, and someone stepped out with a certain grace and finesse that definitely did  _ not _ belong in a Panamanian bar that looked like someone had a bar fight in it every other night. 

Alec had spent a lot of time around treasure hunters, for one reason or another. He knew the type, and when they spoke on the phone he had no doubt that Magnus Bane was every bit the treasure hunter. He also knew before he even left New York that Magnus Bane was short on cash. Why else would he trade away the discovery of a lifetime for nothing but funding for the trip? Alec's show was popular, but the funding wasn't infinite. Even he could stretch this far though - boat hire, lifting gear… it was a relatively small ask.

But still, he knew the treasure hunter type. They made one big find and then burned through the profits of that, chasing the next one. That and hundreds of valuable historical items ended up in hidden private collections because people like Magnus Bane sold them to the highest bidder.

Treasure hunters were… arrogant. Bold. Reckless. They always had to be the smartest one in the room, and the one willing to jump first and dive into the fire for the barest hint of some great discovery. These people thought they could find Atlantis if they searched long enough. But some stories were just  _ stories _ . But getting one of these guys to let go was impossible. They were… rude and obnoxious and Alec had been tolerating the profession for as long as he could remember. All of that should have prevented him from feeling anything for the man sauntering across the bar towards him, Alec standing in the door, clinging to his satchel a little too tightly.

And yet… Alec couldn't help the way his eyes clung to arm muscles, barely hidden under a deep burgundy henley. He couldn't help but notice how good skinny black jeans fitted his legs, or how just that tiny piece of chest on display made it look like Magnus Bane could probably bench press Alec in his sleep. He couldn't help but notice how the eyeliner he wore made his eyes look bigger, and how his hair looked stylish and yet relaxed all at the same time.

He shouldn't be attracted to Magnus Bane. It was a no good, very bad idea that would cause him no end of trouble, and he needed to stop looking  _ right now _ . 

But fuck, he was too gay for this.

“Alec Lightwood?” Magnus asked, and Alec blinked for a moment, trying to remember his own name and what he was there for.

Oh right. The coffin. The sunken, lost coffin of Sir Francis Drake. That old thing.

“Yea -… yes. That's me,” Alec offered, clearing his throat, hoping Magnus didn't notice how his voice broke in the middle. He could do this. He was fine.

But from Magnus’ raised eyebrow and the way his eyes ran over him, Alec was fairly sure he'd noticed. Well. That was just peachy.

“Magnus Bane. You look even better than you do on TV,” Magnus commented slyly, before gesturing to the corner of the bar, reaching into his back pocket. Alec didn't waste any time, following him and watching as Magnus laid the map out on the table. 

“So, all you need to do is get us out here and I'll provide the fireworks,” Magnus explained, and Alec decided that was probably the shortest job briefing he'd ever had. 

“How did you find this?” Alec asked, looking at the coordinates. It wasn't too far out, so it wouldn't take them that long to get there. They could probably go that afternoon, assuming Alec's contacts pulled through.

“Months of hard work, and quite a few dead ends. But this is definitely it. You're lucky, this is probably the easiest film you've ever made.”

“So what's the catch?” Alec asked, narrowing his eyes a little. Magnus sat back, looking mock offended. 

“Alexander. Would I hide anything from you?” Magnus asked honestly, and Alec scoffed.

“I just met you. I have no idea what you'd do, but you're not my first treasure hunter.”

“But I am the best,” Magnus retorted confidently. Alec rolled his eyes. Arrogant. All of them. Some things didn't seem to change, and self confidence was one of those things. “Look, you came all this way. All you need to do is hire us a boat, get us out there and I'll do the rest. You get your exclusive footage of the coffin of Sir Francis Drake and I get… well, what I came for. We all go home happy.”

Alec had always operated on one rule: if it seemed too good to be true it probably was. He'd heard it before, all these finds of a lifetime that were maybe only disappointments of a lifetime. It came with the life, the career, the promise of a big payout if they just rolled the dice one more time. 

Really, treasure hunting was just like gambling with guns, crumbling ruins and ancient artefacts. And Alec had never been  _ that  _ much of a risk taker.

“What have you got to lose?” Magnus pressed after a moment, and Alec sighed, rubbing his fingers together idly. What did he have to lose, other than time and a boat rental fee? He could even sail it himself. It was a risk, but if he wasn't interested in taking it, then why on earth had he flown all the way to Panama to take it?

“There better be something to make a show out of,” Alec pressed, and Magnus put his hand on his heart.

“I promise you will have enough material to make a show out of. Scout's honour.”

“You were never a scout.” 

The British accent felt even more out of place in the seedy bar, and Alec looked up, watching the man approach from the same door Magnus had emerged from. 

“Oh, hush you,” Magnus tsked briefly, and the new man rolled his eyes. “This grumpy man is Ragnor Fell, an associate of mine.”

“Will you be joining us, Mr Fell?” Alec asked, and Ragnor scoffed slightly.

“Oh, no. I prefer to leave the daring adventures to this one. You two enjoy, I'll see you when you get back. I have some people to see. Be careful,” Ragnor cautioned, and from his tone Alec had an inkling that 'associate’ didn't quite cover their relationship. Still, this was going to be a quick job. There was no point in prying.

“So does this mean we'll be making the trip, Alexander?” Magnus pressed. Alec sighed.

“Let me make some calls.” Magnus beamed, looking every bit like a child in the candy store. It shouldn't look so attractive. It did, though.

“You won't regret this,” Magnus promised him, and Alec shook his head a little.

That remained to be seen. Attractive, over confident treasure hunters definitely weren't the type he should be tangling with. And yet…

There was a sense of adventure in Alec that was thrilled at the thought of all this. Discovering a lost coffin, of Sir Francis Drake no less? It was the kind of find he'd dreamed of. The network would be delighted, and all he needed to do was rent the boat and let Magnus take whatever he'd come for.

It would be easy. He'd be back home in a day, and far, far away from Magnus Bane, no matter how pretty he was. Alec wasn't getting involved with treasure hunters again. Not after…

Alec took a deep breath, pulled out his phone and hit dial.

He had no idea that call would change his life. But then, when did anyone recognise a crossroads when they were at it?

Alec glanced back at Magnus who was bent over the map, nicely showing off his ass. 

Maybe an adventure was exactly what he needed. And adventure with Magnus? He could think of worse things to do with his day. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

An adventure of a lifetime. How could he say no to that?

“Hey, Ric. Yeah, about that boat…”


End file.
